


I Can't Help Myself I Fall (i can't help myself at all)

by thetidesisrising



Series: there's something in the look you give [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Past Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Romance, mentions of steve rogers/sharon carter, this is a scarletamerica story don't let the relationship tags fool you, tw: anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5500865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetidesisrising/pseuds/thetidesisrising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>later, they kiss.<br/>-<br/>(a glimpse at a scarletamerica realtionship post aou and pre civil war)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Help Myself I Fall (i can't help myself at all)

**Author's Note:**

> Here it finally is guys, the sequal to I Don’t Want to Think About it Now. I promise that the gap won’t be as big as it was last time. I hope you enjoy this! I do not own the mcu, Captain America, or the Scarlet Witch. Enjoy!

The team thinks that the tension between the two is stifling, and sometimes, she agrees.

Twenty-two days have passed since Mr. Stark found Steve curled protectively around Wanda, and to the dismay of the team, no apparent changes have been made to their relationship.

Sure, her nightmares still plague her. Every night between the hours of two and three in the morning her screams rocked the tower; and it’s no longer a surprise when Steve runs from his room on the floor above to check on her.

Perhaps the most surprised of the team is the Widow; she remembers how cozy Steve was with Peggy’s granddaughter, and she finds it peculiar that he moves on that quickly. Steve does not strike many as a player. Although, she should know what it’s like to keep secrets, after all, she’s been doing it all her life. Nonetheless she finds his advancements torpid, and she descends on Clint to stir the pot.

Clint has been treating Wanda like a daughter. Every Thursday he takes her out to lunch and a movie to try and assimilate her into modern culture. The first time, she nearly fought the screen, and it was a mere Adam Sandler movie. She had slowly warmed up to comedies and dramas, her favorite being _Silver Linings Playbook_ , something that Clint had happened to pick up from redbox on the way back from visiting with his family.

If Wanda looks, she can see the envy in Agent Romanoff’s eyes as he grabs her arm like a father and whisks her away to the next planned activity. She can tell that the woman wants confirmation of her relationship with Steve, but she’s not going to get it. To Wanda, Steve is just a partner looking out for her, something she desperately needs after Pietro. ( _She doesn’t speak of the butterflies swirling about in her stomach whenever he pulls her in for a hug or runs his fingers along her arm._ )

So when Clint takes her to the Mexican place on the corner of Broadway, she isn’t surprised when he asks the dreaded question; Agent Romanoff’s hold over him is grand, even if he isn’t what she wants him to be.

“How’s Steve doing?” he asks as the waiter delivers the chips and queso to the table.

“Good,” she replies, her accent thick as she attempted to keep the conversation short.

This week they were going to see her first action movie, and she was quite nervous about it. She had no idea how she would fare against the three dimensional images. Clint only watched movies in 3-D, a concept that was entirely new to her.

He bit into the chip in his hands, watching her carefully as she sipped her glass of water.

“So, are you two doing fine?”

She blinked, as if not understanding, before formulating her mouth into an “o” shape and beginning to blush.

“Our friendship is good,” she replies, nodding enthusiastically as she grabbed a chip from the bowl and dipping it in guacamole. “He is taking me to see the Statue of Liberty on Saturday, he has been a helpful transition into modern culture.”

Clint snorted, attempting to cover his incredulous expression with his hand.

“So I don’t have to give him a talk, do I?”

She frowns in confusion.

“Look Wanda, I’m just trying to look out for you, okay? You remind me of my kids and I want to keep you safe, I hope you know that Agent 13 is coming tomorrow, and I don’t want you to be hurt.”

She held in the surprised gasp that threatened to escape her tight lips, eyes widening slightly at the confession. She didn’t need anyone to watch out for her. That was Pietro’s job, and even if he wasn’t physically beside her, he could still watch over her from heaven.

“To answer your question,” she began, feigning disinterest. “Not unless buying me ice cream is illegal, but I would talk that over with Agent Romanoff.”

The two didn’t talk for the rest of their outing.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Margaret’s niece arrived the next day.

She couldn’t stop the jealousy that was running rampage through her veins, stopping at nothing to consume her thoughts. The way that he leaned in to kiss her cheek as she enveloped him in an affectionate hug sent jolts of envy into her heart.

“Wanda,” he says after a moment, his hand wrapped around the niece’s waist. “Come here for a moment, I want you to meet someone.”

She complies, carefully making her way to the pair, her head down as if she had been a naughty schoolgirl.

“Sharon,” Steve begins, smiling broadly at Wanda. “This is Wanda Maximoff, she’s been helping me a lot recently, and honestly, she’s probably one of my best friends in this era anyway.”

Her heart melts at his kind words, and if he weren’t holding the niece under her arm she would have hugged him. She allows a slight smile to cross her lips as her cheeks flush crimson, the red coloring blurring her vision as she shakes the nieces’s hand.

“I’m Sharon Carter,” she said releasing her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard many things about you.”

Wanda doesn’t say anything in return, her play-space oozing with blood as the colors begin to take hold of her once more. She can see the concern in Steve’s eyes, but she refuses to ruin the recent development that is blossoming between the pair, so she smiles weakly and sputters out some excuse as to where she was going, and took off in the direction of the elevators.

She completely misses the flash of concern that darts between Steve and the niece, and the knowing look that passes between Clint and Mr. Stark.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It turns out that the pair was headed to see Margaret in her nursing home in Washington, something that only helped to fuel the fire. Steve had taken her to see Margaret once, and the step had felt huge in their friendship, but now it felt insignificant, like a toy that had once been played with – only to suddenly be left behind.

For the four hours that Steve was away, she refused to exit her room, casting sanguine hexes around herself and refusing to talk to any of the others. For along with red, typically came black, and it was ignorant to think otherwise with her history.

She begins to let the blackness overwhelm her just before he opens the door to her room, mesmerized as the hexes shatter around her.

 _“Wanda,”_ he breathes after a moment, terrified to touch her in case she rejects him.

The blackness cleansing her begins to dim, and she cries out, her arms flailing. He grabs her wrist and she immediately stills, gasping as he caresses her fingers.

“What’s bothering you?” he asks, her eyes widening as the colors continue to fade.

“I saw you and Sharon,” she confessed, tracing the words in the air with her free hand, the red nail polish lingering in the air behind each letter. “And it reminded me of the dynamic I had with Pietro.”

In essence, this is true, but she hides the jealous rage deep within her, electing to lock it up in a tiny vault in her play-space, and sending it to reside in her steel heart.

“I’m sorry for that Wanda, I should have never put you in that position in the first place.”

Her breathing became shaky; she hated it when he tried to pin the responsibilities of her pain on himself. In her opinion, he didn’t deserve it, she did for being a stupid, naïve little girl. She shook her head, and he wrapped his arms around her in return, hesitantly at first, and then slowly melting into her. She allowed a few tears to slip past her defenses, but put an abrupt stop to the notion when she wasn’t sure if she could contain the tears from spilling anymore.

She falls asleep then, and he leaves an hour later with the promise of good things the next morning.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It’s only then, as the pair is confined to the tiny elevator that takes them to the crown of the statue of liberty, does she let the colors fully take hold of her.

They had been threatening to grasp her the entire morning, from the blonde taxi driver’s lingering looks on the car ride to the ferry to the young siblings game of catch at battery park, she felt the red begin to swarm her vision. The red, she could fight off. It’s the black dots that began to swirl at the edges of her vision as they stepped into the elevator that she couldn’t, finally succumbing to her inner agony as the doors allowed them a moment of peace to themselves. Her ridged features locked onto the buttons, if it had been anyone else beside her it may have taken them a moment to realize that something was wrong, but this man was unlike any other.

“Wanda what’s wrong?”

He leans across her to rest his hands on her shoulders as she stares ahead tilting her head slightly to the side. Her silence unnerves him, and he attempts to get her to speak once more.

“Wanda!” he says, urgency seeping into his tone.

Scanning his brain he tries to think of something, something, that could break the spell, and oh.

_Oh._

He knows what to do. And praying that his life truly is like a fairytale, ( _come on, frozen in time? Super powered man? If that doesn’t fit the bill than what does?_ ) he gently presses his lips to hers.

She immediately loosens, slowly wrapping her arms around his neck. Leaning back, she glances at him, confusion evident in her eyes.

“I thought you were dating Sharon,” she blurts, eyes avoiding his.

He chuckles, pulling her closer to him.

“No, I want you, and nobody else.”

She grins, pulling him back in for another round.

The colors fade from her and slowly but surely she feels safe.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Smirking, Mr. Stark passes them a tabloid the next morning, her back leaning comfortably against Steve’s broad chest.

And for the first time in a really long time, she doesn’t care what the rest of the world thinks about her.

Smiling, she looks up at Steve. He really was the only one who mattered anyway.


End file.
